Armed with my umbrella I ventured out into the rain.
Quickening my pace as thoughts begin racing through my brain.
Travel bag draped across my chest by my lucky shoulder strap.
I hastily folded up the seemingly old and weathered treasure map.
When I finally reached my car I fumbled desperately for my keys.
Upon entering, glancing in the mirror. Is someone following me?

Shaking off that feeling that I'm secretly being sought.
I turned the key over but the ****** engine wouldn’t start.
Exasperated I pressed my head against the steering wheel.
Just then off in the distance, I could hear foreboding tires squeal.
Set off back in the pouring rain I jogged towards my destination.
Peering quickly at my watch. Will I still make it to the station?

Wet and weary the street lamps reveal that I'm nearly there.
I turn and proceed backwards as I slowly cross the square.
Finally my footsteps echo in the station, lights flicker on the walls.
Slipping on the marble  while navigating through  poorly lit halls.
Map said locker number 78 so that’s what I hoped to find.
I think I might be going in circles, was I losing my freaking mind?

Finally on the right track, I scan the lockers, 76, 77 and 78. Now what?
I have neither key nor combination, may as well be welded shut.
Wait it’s not locked! I lift the latch and gingerly swing open the door.
An old flip phone!? I pick it up, startlingly it rings and I watch it hit the floor.
Quickly I grab it from between my feet, flip it open saying ”beam me up, Scotty!”
Couldn’t recognize the mysterious muffled voice, was the reception in here shoddy?

The person on the other end said, board the next train due.
They quickly hung up before I could ask when, why or who.
I seriously began to question the authenticity of this map.
As I followed colour coded arrows, my curiosity had me trapped.
Just then the station speaker crackled its arrival on platform three.
Proceeded by don't worry about a ticket. Were they expecting me?

I make it to the boarding strip no longer caring about getting wet.
Then glancing across the platform I begin to see a foreboding silhouette.
As the gap between us shortens I begin to see a familiar step.
When the face of this figure came into view my heart it surely leapt.
My wife was staring back at me with a bag for going on a trip.
She said I hear you’re looking for adventure as she bites her bottom lip...

©️

.

Some of them were strangers


Some of them were without any rule


None of them would see another tomorrow


And if the innocent are guilty


Of the crimes they are harboring within


Then what are the chances in the hands of the convicted


There in the tiredness of what resignation brings

In the rejection of your everything

When the dawn draws close with no exceptions

Some of them were crying

Some of them stood brave

In the end it just didn't matter . . .


All of their dreams came tumbling down

All of their love would soon expire

And the void in the midst of the distance left not a sound

As the earth swallowed all that mattered

It covered all of their future faults

Leaving the fresh dirt of new direction


Some of them were young

Some of them were old

Some of them were men and the others were women

Some of them were just in the wrong location

Maybe they had the wrong face of denial

Just maybe in memory they will not be forgotten

For being guilty of being innocent

dwarfed and obscure,
sit neatly arranged for all to adore.
Parched from the aridity, neglected by the sun,
I the bonsai never truly begun.

Cast in the shadows, growing off to the side,
never fully *****, always wanting to hide.
I the bonsai have the capacity to grow,
a little warmth and attention is all I need you know.